Rust Belt
Red Zone
2232-08-13
1200
The rust belt was one of the first districts built during the founding of the Vale city. The nearby lake provided water which were fed into the cooling towers for the nearby factories, most demolished as the city grew, and moved further into the wastes. The space converted into apartment complexes which housed the thousands of workers employed by the dozen factories making products ranging from raw steel, machine parts, to even luxury goods.
Now the long rows of large and expansive factory buildings were left to decay. Wide, well-made roads made for heavy trucks bore large cracks, damage from the war, with greenery eking out what meager life they could carve into the concrete. Every bare metal was rusted, giving off the metallic smell which was quick to fade into the background to mix with the scent of dried mud and decaying matter.
The group passed the red zone border about an hour and a half ago, and was already a mile in. The wide, low structures was a departure from the tall skyscrapers providing thousands of angles to shoot from. The rust belt was as wide as the Golden row was tall. Still, they have far to go.
Arthur took front, while Marcus took up the rear and Columbus in the middle. He wore a patchwork set of clothes making him look more like a hired NPC, and carried a comically large pack on his bag, laden with equipment, ammunition and supplies for the trip. His suffering look contrasted against the top of the line gear Arthur and Marcus wore.
The plan, as Arthur suggested, was a simple disguise to make it look like Arthur and Marcus were the ones hiring Columbus as a mule. This gave their VIP the added protection of being a secondary target. The common consensus for players was for the mule to be heavily shielded and armored, leaving the two hitters as light as possible to react and retaliate to any attack. This common party composition made it so that the sensible move would be to hit the fighters first, leaving the mule last since he would be burdened by his pack and would not be able to run far.
Marcus and Columbus sat by the window, watching from the upper windows of a storage warehouse. He could see half dozen Scavs milling around a traffic pileup by a burned down gas station. Prioritizing Columbus getting to his objective, they would have just bypassed the Scavs. But with Columbus's map leading directly to the intersection itself, they needed to take them all out so Columbus could orient themselves for the point.
As agreed, Arthur had not joined their party. Serving as their battering ram for any problem that needed shooting. He had set out minutes prior and the two were simply left with nothing to do but wait, along with a window side view of the coming fight. They watched as Arthur made his way across the road and approached the gas station, using the cover of the buildings to get as close as he could without the Scavenger’s noticing his approach. He then emerged from the building corner nearest the gas station and aimed down the 30-yard distance between him and the closest Scav. Sending a couple of shots, the scavenger dropped like a sack of potatoes. His weapon, a beat up and rusted shotgun, clattered on the ground, alerting the others.
Figures ran around below. One managed to spot Arthur and pointed, making everyone shoot.
Arthur was not fazed. Hiding behind a thick concrete wall, he peeked out just enough to see the Scav at the outermost flank and engaged him. Marcus saw the Scav's head snap back, pink mist exploding out the back of his head. He fell on his back, making the rest try and fight with stronger determination and pushing Arthur back into his cover.
One ran forward, expecting to try and surprise Arthur with a shotgun to the face. Still, whatever their plan was, they did not expect someone else to engage them from their flanks.
Using his 3x co-witnessed magnifier, Marcus aimed and shot at the legs of the charging Scav, causing him to stumble and hit the ground hard. His shotgun was ripped away from the impact, throwing it feet in front to which Marcus simply aimed and shot at. The round hit the receiver, throwing it farther away from the Scav's grasp and destroying it.
Marcus then shifted his aim to the others. Making sure as to not kill them, shot at their limbs whenever he could and above their heads to keep them down. A couple of Scavs stumbled out for cover, screaming in pain as their legs gave out on them and leaving them on the open to be taken out by Arthur. More shouts exchanged, trying to find the second shooter while Marcus simply continued to shoot above their heads, buying time and taking attention away from Arthur who was methodically picking them all one by one.
As the firefight started, Columbus took cover on the deepest part of the room, watching Marcus' cool composure under the firefight and noticing less and less guns in the firefight the more it progressed.
“Were good.” Marcus called to Columbus. “Arthur got them all.”
Columbus sidled next to him to the window, looking out. The MP5 in his hand held loose with his finger on the trigger, a slip to which Marcus was quick to correct. Shaking his head, it was apparent why he needed the help.
Without looking their direction, Arthur signaled an all clear to which he moved to the nearest Scavenger lying near cover and rifled through his belongings, coming up with an object which he put into his pockets.
The two then exited their hide and went ahead to meet with Arthur on the gas station. With the two looking out, Columbus pulled out his crudely drawn map and consulted his notes. He had a look of a lost tourist, hunching over the map while looking up at the distance for any visible landmarks. A couple of minutes later, he nodded and pulled up an overhead map of the area, after orienting himself, He pointed over to a specific spot on the map.
“Here. We need to go to this area. Once there, I'll be able to get us on a better bearing on the objective.” Columbus declared. Pointing over at a spot in the map near the edge of the zone. Marcus sighed, it would have been much easier if they knew the final location they needed to go in the beginning, but game quests liked to be contrived and as far as being straightforward as it could.
Arthur sucked air through his teeth. “Going to take a while, but I think we could get you there.”
Seeing Arthur's reaction, Marcus looked over at the specified spot again and saw nothing unique about it. Just an area near the residential slums. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s a ripe PVPVE ground. Worse, the creatures roaming around there can be harvested and could fetch a good price in the market making it popular for players to run around in.” Arthur said. “The closer we get to it, the likelier we are going to run up to another player or group.” He said looking up to the sky and then his watch, “Good news was that we still have some daylight left. That area would be a cluster fuck once night falls.”
“We better get going then.” Marcus replied.
“Right.” Arthur said, leading the way.
...
About half an hour later and a quarter mile away from the gas station, they holed up in an abandoned garage floor, on break while also trying to orient themselves using Columbus' crudely drawn map. Marcus sat by the window, looking out when he managed to see a flash of movement on one of the buildings on the distance, just a head peeking around the corner, but he knew, they were looking for them. The first few times, he only chocked it up to nervousness making him see things that weren’t there. He then flipped up his 3x magnifier and aimed at the corner, trying to be triple sure only to find a head slowly peek out and turn to his direction. Marcus didn’t fire, shooting at likely armored and shielded players at about 200 yards with his 5.56 rifle wouldn’t get him a kill. Instead, he pulled himself back into cover and waved for Arthur.
“Were being followed.” He whispered, reaching to his pack for a cigarette and lit it. “I think we managed to pick them up around after we took out the Scavs and had been following us since. I didn’t bother to tell you since I only had glimpses of them and now I'm sure."
“How many?” Arthur asked.
“At least two, likely three.” Marcus replied. “How'd you want to play this?”
Arthur chewed his lip. “I’ll stay behind, slow them down. You get Columbus where he needed to be.”
“I’m actually thinking the other way around. You go and get him where he needed to be. Less chance for us to delay and bumble around if it was me. You know more to look out for any dangers ahead, you’ve already got us this far, while I stay behind and slow them down, maybe even take some out. Leave tracks that I can follow and cover up easily so I could catch up.”
Arthur considered the option before nodding. “Okay. Don’t die. If they prove to be much more trouble than you can handle, just follow along. If they still try and pursue, then we can either try and take them on there and then, or we’ll just go by my plan and I’ll stay and make sure they are tied up while you and Columbus would just go ahead with the job.”
...
Keeping still was hard, really hard. Someone might be able to keep at it for five minutes, maybe fifteen until they feel the urge to fidget, scratch their nose or turn their head or fiddle. Marcus realized this whenever he hunted, sitting up on the trees using deer stands. Any sudden movement, even though wearing effective camouflage would spook the deer into running. He found out that the best way for him to be still was to breathe slow and focus on the details of what he was looking at.
Sitting on his position inside a Garage. Marcus took a look at his watch, the face turned to the inside of his wrist, and noticed that they are taking too long. It had been 20 minutes since Arthur and Columbus went ahead. If he wouldn't be able to make contact within 10 minutes, he would have to abandon the ambush and follow the tracks to where they would meet up.
There. Marcus noticed a shadow move in the distance, 50 yards away, between two sets of dumpsters set on the both sides of the alley. A head popped out around the corner, slowly looking back and forth before pulling his head back into cover. A second later, the same player popped out into view, careful, head swiveling up on the roof and down on the ground, looking for something. Slowly, he took a knee to look at something on the ground to which Marcus felt something was not right.
He never did it whenever he saw him, and there should be others following the player, but where are they? He wondered just as he heard movement, a boot scuffing under the window he was looking through followed by glass shattering. Marcus felt something hit him hard, pushing him back. His shields flared and he fell to his back just in time to see something round fly through the window, past the catwalk he was standing in and falling down into the garage floor.
Stolen story; please report.
“Fuck!” Marcus muttered and rolled to face the wall, his hands covering his head. The explosion washed out his hearing and he felt himself lifted off the catwalk and slammed back down.
Bits of concrete bounced off the tin roof and landed all over. Marcus got up, making sure to keep away from the window, where rounds still snapped by, still being suppressed by whoever was outside. He ran down the metal stairs and quickly headed to the factory back door, but stopped. Whether the players tailing them found about the planned ambush or just expected them, having it turned around on him meant that they aren’t like any other player group. That meant that they likely had the back door covered.
Slowly, Marcus opened the door. The rusted hinges creaked and let in the fading sunlight. He didn’t run out but reached for his vest to one of the smoke grenades he kept. Pulling the pin, he tossed it underhand and let it bounce against the open door, clattering outside.
With a loud pop and a hiss, the grenade billowed out thick smoke that covered the rear of the building.
Marcus waited, one, two. A round bounced off the metal door and ricocheted somewhere inside the garage, more followed in a flurry of blocking fire. Backing off, Marcus headed in the middle of the garage, his head running miles a minute. He surely saw three, but there could be easily as four, unlikely to be five. The bait, the guy under the window who likely threw the grenade, the one who shot him and the one covering the rear. Four.
Most likely.
None of Arthur’s situations covered these, with him saying that he shouldn't’ have been in this kind of situation in the first place but if he did, then he would just have to fight it out and hope for the best. Already dreading about the words he has to say, Marcus pressed the radio’s transmit button.
“Arthur. I might be fucked here. There’s actually four of them and they got me surrounded. Sorry.”
“Keep yourself alive. I’m already headed your way.” Arthur replied through the radio just as another grenade rolled through the open door landed inside. The garage had been gutted long before of any valuables. Anything left were too heavy to move or just not worth to take out. His eyes then homed in on the only piece of cover, a trench dug into the ground for mechanics to work out off, and dove into its safety just as the grenade exploded, followed by another.
'Two grenades?' he asked himself, then remembered the first guy below the window.
Marcus poked his head out of the concrete trench and noted the flurry of deadly fragments peppered the tin walled garage, letting light seep in through the hundreds of small holes. If he had been caught in the open, he would have bet there would be a human sized silhouette against the tin wall.
Then Marcus saw it, a shadow went past one of the holes, heading to the back door. Marcus snapped his rifle to his shoulder, eyes focused on one of the pinpricks of light, flicked his rifle to full auto and waited. He at the light, taking note the angle of the sun, and fired the moment a shadow walked past.
The rounds tore through the tin as if wet tissue paper. Thirty rounds peppered the area around, adding more holes shot through the walls. Rounds stitched through the walls in reply and Marcus ducked back down into the trench, safe in the cover and quickly reloaded his rifle, dropping the magazine on the ground.
Safe in his trench, Marcus peered over the lip of the concrete floor and kept his eyes on the back door. More rounds ripped through the air above Marcus’s head followed by the loud rattling of the garage door pulled up, letting light flood inside.
Marcus ducked back into the trench and spun to the now opened garage door. A grenade flew in and clattered somewhere inside, thrown from the left of the door. It would have been the best time to throw a grenade of his own, but he can't afford to take his hands off his rifle. With nothing else, Marcus kept his rifle raised at the direction just as a head poked out to look inside before quickly pulling back.
Bait. Thankfully, Marcus held his fire, he wouldn't have taken the man out even if he hit him in the head. It would have just revealed his location to them. Better to leave them guessing as he needed all the help he could get. In the off chance that Arthur manages to get in close to help, Marcus would have to play for time.
Seconds ticked by. There were no more rounds fired nor grenades thrown. The grenade Marcus threw out the back still billowed and hissed with some of the smoke wafting inside the garage. The light coming through the holes in the walls turned into light shafts making this showdown between Marcus and the group outside an almost serene look. Still, Marcus’ heart raced and his mind felt clearer than ever before. 'So this is what it feels', Marcus thought to which he quickly ignored as sounds of boots filtered through his electronic headset.
“Tiha is dead, couldn't save him.” someone said outside.
“You want to say that louder and let him know? Go ahead dumb ass!” came a hushed reply.
Good thing to know Marcus took out one of them at least. Him taking out at least one made Marcus feel a bit better but his main objective was still to get out and link up with both Arthur and Columbus. Killing them was just secondary, hell, if they would have just minded their own business then one of them wouldn't have been dead.
“Listen up! You and I both know we got you surrounded. We got the two exits covered so you have nowhere else to go. Give up, drop your guns, your vest and your bag, walk out with your hands above your head and we’ll let you go.” The voice was coming from the open garage, but Marcus didn’t reply. It could just be a ploy to get him to talk back allowing the ones outside to get a better intel on his location.
Marcus's mind raced, trying to figure out where everyone is. If the man wasn’t lying, then there would be the same guy covering the rear leaving likely two other players watching the open garage door. His advantage would be that he was in the best piece of cover on the garage with them, left with just tin walls as concealment, not even cover. He could try and just dump a full mag to where he would think a player would be standing, but that would leave him out of bullets in case he misses, or fail to kill his target or just have a second guy com in while he was out of ammo.
Marcus cursed to himself. All he could hope was that he could out shoot all of them. The problem was getting them under his sights.
So Marcus kept as silent as he could, not giving anything away since the other players are as likely to have their own electronic headsets, and are listening to the barest sounds.
“Don't even think to get one over us. We know you’re there. Don't waste our time any more than you already did. You have 10 seconds to decide. Or we all throw in grenades in your little hole and bum rush you if you're still alive.”
“Ten!”
Fuck. Marcus cursed, did they really know that he was in there or was it just a guess? Doesn’t matter, he was going on a fight three on one. Slowly, Marcus reached to his vest and pulled one out of the grenades and waited for the right time.
"Fuck him. We should just leave and continue down to our real target!" Someone whispered outside, barely audible but Marcus was able to parse together the gist of what they were saying.
"Nine! -leave him and give him a chance to shoot us in the back? No, they are moving slow, we tracked them down and we can do it again. - Eight!"
'Okay. It seems like they finding us was not a coincidence, they were directly gunning for us.' Marcus thought to himself and remember Arthur. "Arthur. They are here for C. I'm going to have to bum rush them. Be careful. If I don't call back, then they got me." he whispered through the radio, hoping that Arthur heard it clearly.
"Six!"
Marcus pulled the pin and tossed the flash-bang, letting it bounce on the concrete and out the garage doors. Knowing that it wouldn't kill him, Marcus followed it out just as a pair of frag grenades sailed past his shoulder and disappeared somewhere inside the garage.
The flashbang exploded. The blinding and stunning effect would be tremendously reduced outside but having it explode next to you would still rock your world.
Stepping into the light, Marcus aimed towards the nearest player, the circle-dot reticle hovering above his surprised face. Firing a triple tap, all landing on the man’s face, Marcus spun around to deal with the other guy on the other side of the door.
He already had his rifle in his hand, already coming off the concussing effect. The player standing there looked at him with a split second of confusion before realizing what happened and started firing. He was aiming low and the rounds bounced off the concrete, a ricochet hitting Marcus on the leg. Still, a trio of shots shut him down, the first round shattering against his shields before the second broke it and the third punching through his face.
Before the second guy hit there ground, Marcus was already on the move. The last man had to be coming in from the back door and getting silhouetted against the garage door would leave him in a very disadvantageous position. Marcus quickly turned out to be right as bullets snapped over his back as he sprinted out of the way and out of sight. Sliding to a stop, Marcus waited for the grenades to explode, only for him to notice a fresh new batch of holes punched on the tin walls and realized that it had somehow already exploded without him noticing he wasn't even hit as far as he knew. Cursing, Marcus turned around and laid on his stomach, aimed down at the garage door only for no one to come out.
Back on his feet, Marcus picked up a sizable rock on his hand and yelled “Grenade!” as he tossed it inside.
Following it forward, Marcus quickly pied the inside of the garage, remembering that the best piece of cover other than the trench in the center was the lone engine hanging off a crane to his right. Lights on, Marcus swept his aim over just as a man ran into view, flushed out by the rock believing that it was an actual grenade.
Marcus hitched his breath as his aim tracked the running man, his aim centered on his back and let off a steady burst, the player’s shield shattered and he dropped on his face, slamming the concrete hard and sliding for a bit before stopping.
Listening, there was only silence except for Marcus’s panting breaths and the rush of blood running through his ears. “Holy shit.” He muttered. "Holy Shit!" He screamed, running towards the nearest cover, and dropped back on the trench. "Get shit on by a solo, bitch!" he continued before reaching for the radio.
“Arthur. Where are you?” He asked, speaking louder than he should have.
“Nearly there. Just around the corner. Play for yourself, keep alive.” Came the reply.
“I think I got them all. Still be careful though.” Marcus said, and crouched back into the safety of the trench.
His heart was still racing, and Marcus could swear he could hear sounds where they shouldn't be. Peeking over the lip and finding nothing, he simply chocked it up to nerves and did his best to keep still and silent as he waited for Arthur to arrive.
A couple of minutes later, his radio clicked once, paused and once again. If Marcus remembered it clearly, it was their sign of transmission request.
"Go." Marcus whispered.
"I'm outside. It looks clear." Arthur replied, “Shit dude. You just fucked them up. I can see four guys laid out around the garage."
“I just got lucky.” Marcus replied, before what he said clicked. "Wait, say again. Four?"
"Four bodies. One on the side of the building, two by the front of the garage, and one under a pile of garbage, facing the front of the building"
"Didn't kill anyone by a pile of garbage." Marcus replied. "I think, that's a fifth guy."
"Roger that. Fucking rat." Arthur replied, followed by a string of suppressed gunfire.
"Were clear. I'm coming up on front." He said and Marcus stood from his trench where he saw Arthur approach.
"Come on. Loot up quick and leave the rest so we can GTFO." He said.
After a cursory search, Marcus found no identifying marks belonging to any known guild, just their tags which had their names, but that didn't really mean anything. They collected five rifles, all of them being the premium guns with 100 percent drop rate on death, easily degrade and cannot be repaired. After a cursory glance, they looked barely used. All in all, they came up with 4 sets of modded M4s and an M14 EBR along with hundreds of ammo which they split between them to replenish the rounds they shot.
"We done?" Arthur asked, looking around.
"Yeah."
"Okay. cool" Arthur replied, pulling out a cylindrical device the size of a smoke grenade off his pouch. Unlike the smooth surface of a smoke grenade, it was covered with bumps and ridges.
"what's that?"
"A little noise maker." Arthur grinned. "You run up to a group like this, you rarely get to have the chance to run out with their dropped gear. If you just leave them out and they aren't found by someone else, they get sent back to the players if they paid insurance." He said, pulling the pin on top. "This, is to attract attention. pops a shot out every two minutes and lasts for two hours. By that time, some rat would have found the corpses and vacuumed up everything he could take, leaving nothing to get back to them. Because fuck whoever likes to roll deep." He said, tossing the device in the ground.
Moving out, they got past one block before the noise maker popped off a loud bang that resonated along the red zone, making it hard to ignore.
"Really got lucky there." Marcus muttered.
“Lucky or not, you kicked ass. Oh, and don't worry about our guy. He's holed up somewhere safe.”
"good to know.” Marcus replied, shrugging, then suddenly remembering, he tapped his pouches. "Fuck."
"What's wrong?"
"I left a mag in there.” Marcus said.
"Can't go back for it now." Arthur said, shrugging.